Conflict Of Interest
by EllisLuie
Summary: It's been a year since Reid and Rossi discovered their relationship to each other, and after a rocky start, things are going well. They've been able to get the FBI and press off their backs, but that all changes when the team takes a new case in Seattle. Turns out neither of them are quite as skilled at compartmentalizing as they thought when one or both of them are in danger.
1. Chapter 1

**The sequel to Wrong Life I never thought I'd write. I promised myself I wouldn't post another fic without having written ahead, but oh well. Here goes nothing anyway.**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable.**

* * *

Spencer can hear his heart beating loudly in his chest. It's irregular and heavy, reacting to the panic that's trying to crawl its way up his throat, but Spencer ruthlessly pushes it down. He can't deal with it, not now. To open that door would mean not being able to close it again, and he needs privacy for that kind of breakdown.

Instead, he focuses on his breathing. Deep inhale, steady exhale. He watches Hotch out of the corner of his eye, matching his breaths to his boss's. He ignores the tension in Hotch's shoulders, ignores the deep lines etched into the man's face. Noticing anything other than the man's practiced, steady breathing would mean facing up to everything Spencer's currently trying to hide from.

"Agent Reid," a heavy, regretful voice says. "You have been a great asset to the FBI for several years now, and no one wishes to change that. Your skillset is far too impressive to lose quite so easily. However, we cannot ignore this latest mishap. Frankly, if any other agent had acted the way you did in Seattle, they wouldn't still be in this building."

"Director," Hotch cuts in, "Agent Reid is well aware of the mistakes that were made, but he shouldn't be held solely accountable for –"

"For three agents being put in the hospital, two of which from your own team?"

Hotch falls quiet, and Spencer finds it hard to meet anyone's eyes.

The director sighs and rubs his chin, peering at them with a troubled frown. "I'm sorry, Aaron. Spencer. But I'm afraid my hands are tied. When everything came out last year concerning you and Agent Rossi, you both swore it wouldn't change the dynamic of the team. Against all regulation and common sense, I trusted you would all be able to handle the situation. It hasn't even been a full year, yet here you are again in my office. I really am sorry, but there's nothing I can do."

Without even having to look at him, Spencer can feel Hotch gearing up to argue. Mildly surprised to find his hand steady, he quickly silences his boss with a restraining hand on the shoulder, ignoring the narrowed eyes Hotch sends him in askance.

"I understand," Spencer says, taking a deep breath to squelch the panic. "You have to do your job. With the way you were talking, I assume I'm not fired?" He ignores the way his voice threatens to give out on the last word, relieved when no one else mentions it either.

A muscle twitches in Hotch's jaw, but Spencer deems it safe enough to withdraw his hand from his boss's shoulder. He resists the urge to thread his hands together in his lap, settling for the armrests of his chair. If his knuckles turn white from his grip, well, that's his business.

"Trust me, no one is happy about this," the director assures. "You work well with the BAU, Spencer, anyone can see that. But we can't remove Agent Rossi without immediate media backlash, and I doubt anyone wants him to re-enter retirement. You've been reassigned to a different team. Outside the BAU."

It's not unexpected news. He and Hotch had discussed the possibility in depth before the meeting, and even before that last year. A small part of Spencer is frankly astonished it's taken this long to happen. Even still, hearing it out loud and finalised is too much of a shock to Spencer's system. With a shaky breath, the panic that's been brewing in his chest for the past two weeks finally overwhelms him.

Spencer Reid is leaving the BAU.


	2. Chapter 2

**Well, this is what I get for hoping for regular updates. My bad. Bright side, I got a new laptop, which means I wanted to christen it with a new chapter as soon as I got it (which is probably the only reason I was able to finish this).**

 **Since Wrong Life was told largely from Dave's perspective, it seems fitting that the sequel's told more from Spencer's view. Although, it might change every now and then, just so we can check in on Dave.**

 **Disclaimer: I claim absolutely no ownership to anything recognizable.**

 **** EDIT: I should've mentioned, this chapter takes place before the first one, which was meant to be a sort of teaser/prologue. So the Seattle case that's mentioned in the first chapter is the same case that's introduced here. There won't be any more time weirdness, but I will leave a note if there's any potential for confusion.**

* * *

The light from the windows is far too bright. Surely the sun isn't usually this blinding so early in the morning?

"First hangover? I'm proud."

Despite the ache in his head, Spencer cracks open his eyes in order to properly glare at the man across from him. David's leaning against the kitchen counter, looking unbearably smug and insultingly robust this morning. He's already dressed in a neat button-down shirt and jeans, put together with absolutely no sign of the same queasiness that's currently gripping Spencer's stomach.

"No," Spencer groans, pushing himself up from the couch. "Not the first. But I wasn't expecting how strong your alcohol is." He pulls a face and sways a little bit before he manages to push the sick feeling away. "I don't really do this very often."

David grins toothily. "Lightweight," he observes, thoughtfully nudging a mug of coffee towards Spencer. "With my genes, I thought you'd be able to handle it."

It's a risk, but David's rewarded when Spencer only shoots him a dirty look. The man's too focussed on the mug before him to care about much else, and David counts it in his favour.

"It's your fault," Spencer grumbles unhappily in between gulps of coffee. It isn't quite as sweet as he usually takes it, since David's recently taken to flat out refusing to indulge him with it, but it's enough to tide him over. "I wasn't even supposed to stay the night. You're the one who insisted I stay until I missed the bus."

David waves a dismissive hand. "If you want to blame someone, blame Aaron. He's the one who bought me the scotch. I told you the bus wasn't necessary; you're more than welcome to stay the night, anytime."

Spencer doesn't deign that with an answer, choosing instead to devote his attention to the coffee. David shakes his head with a knowing smirk, but eventually turns away to leave Spencer in peace. He heads straight to the fridge to start pulling out food, presumably for breakfast, and Spencer takes the chance to glance at his watch. He groans.

"Hotch is going to kill us," he bemoans. "We're already half an hour late. I haven't been late to work in _years_."

Unfazed, David doesn't pause. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure Hotch will appreciate the extra time taken to sober you up." He glances over his shoulder and grins at Spencer's dark look. "Besides, he offered me the day off anyway, and he included you in the offer. We can afford to be late."

Not comforted, Spencer frowns into his mug. To further salt the wounds, his phone chooses to go off, beeping with a familiar tone. Hastily digging the phone out of his pocket, Spencer sends a panicked look at David before answering.

"Hey Hotch," he says, and sees David still in front of the stove. "Yeah, he's here. I know, I'm sorry, I didn't realize – "

David swivels around and takes the phone from Spencer's hand, raising an eyebrow as Spencer opens his mouth to protest. "Aaron," he says smoothly. "No, we'll be there in about an hour. Alright, forty minutes. Oh, come on, you know the kid's already got all that done, and I never do it anyway. Tell Morgan to do it. Okay, see you soon."

Turning back to the stove, David pulls the phone away from his ear and sets it on the counter beside him. Spencer makes a noise of protest, but doesn't move to retrieve it.

"I was thinking eggs," David says conversationally. "It'll be quick. You can oversee the toast."

Spencer scowls at the other man's back. "Hotch," he starts.

"Can wait. They're just finishing up reports. Besides, humor an old man, would you?"

Spencer huffs, but slinks over to the bread cupboard without further comment.

CM

Morgan whistles when they finally make their way into the bullpen.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he teases, seated on top of the desk next to Blake's. "We were starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost."

Spencer frowns at him as he dumps his bag at his own desk. "Hotch in his office?" he asks.

"Nah, he's with JJ. Been there since he called you looking for his wayward agents," Morgan says. He pauses and narrows his eyes, studying Spencer closely. "Hang on – You gotta headache again, Reid?"

Blake looks up at that, sharing in his scrutiny. Spencer shifts uncomfortably and refuses to meet their eyes.

David clears his throat. "I'll handle Hotch," he promises Spencer, clapping him on the shoulder. "You just try to find some Advil. Remember, drink plenty of water to clear up that hangover." He winks at him with a sly grin, and suddenly Reid has the strongest urge to throttle him. Before he can contemplate that further, David's gone.

Almost scared to look, Spencer slowly turns to face the other two.

Morgan looks gleeful, Blake just faintly amused. Spencer regrets ever leaving David's couch.

"Things get a little wild last night, huh?" Morgan says, grinning. "Please, feel free to share."

Refusing to humor him, Spencer pointedly pulls out his chair. Most of his paperwork is already finished, but he doesn't mind digging up the stray report if it means ensuring Morgan gets the hint. He is, however, never that lucky, and he should really know that by now.

Morgan simply slips off the desk he's claimed as a seat and stalks over to Spencer, looking far too smug for the genius's peace of mind.

"C'mon, man, give me something. It's a fight just to get you to come out with the team after a case, and I've only ever gotten to see you drunk twice."

That's a blatant lie, but Spencer's grateful that his friend's chosen to leave out the third and fourth time, after Maeve.

"At least tell me how Rossi managed to get you out and drinking. Did you meet anyone?" Morgan wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Spencer forgets himself enough to shoot a disgusted look his way. "Don't look at me like that, pretty boy. Since you won't tell me anything, I'll just have to make my own conclusions. I'm sure Penelope will be more than happy to help me out."

That's a threat if Spencer's ever heard one. Sadly, he knows it isn't an idle one. Considering his options, it's with grim resignation that he decides to go for the path of least resistance.

"We didn't go anywhere," he sighs. "It was just me and Dave. I was only supposed to be there for a few hours, just for dinner and to give him his gift, but then he brought out the alcohol, and… it's a little blurry after that."

Morgan doesn't even bother to try and hide his laugh. He looks ready to ask more questions, but to Spencer's relief, Garcia makes her grand entrance and interrupts.

"Good morning, my heroes," she says chipperly. "Reid! There you are. If you were any later, I was going to have to resort to desperate measures, no matter what our brave leader said. Which reminds me, you should really disable the GPS on your phone, boy wonder."

Spencer pauses. "Uh, can you show me how to do that?"

Garcia just smiles at him indulgently. "Sorry, Reid, but it'll have to be some other time. JJ's expecting me, and I'd hate to keep her waiting." She blows Morgan a kiss and wink, then heads off.

"Woman, you wound me! My poor heart feels all abandoned," Morgan calls after her. Spencer rolls his eyes and takes the chance to focus back on his paper work. This time, Morgan heaves a displeased sigh but relents, muttering unkind things as he moves away. Eventually he goes upstairs, presumably to do his own paperwork, and Spencer relaxes.

He and Blake work in silence for a few hours, only occasionally exchanging remarks on their reports. She doesn't ask about Spencer's night or his hangover, doesn't speak of anything except work, and Spencer is grateful. He finishes before her, but doesn't get up to leave. Instead, he lounges back in his chair and asks Blake if she wants to work on a crossword.

David's the one down the stairs to fetch them. "Case," he says, raising an eyebrow as he sees them huddled together in front of Blake's computer. "Hotch wants us ready to go within the hour."

CM

"Four men have been strangled and left in public parks around Seattle in the past two weeks," Garcia says. "Charles Mighten, 42, was the last victim, killed just thirteen hours ago." She brings up a picture of a spectacularly average, white, middle-aged man, as well as his accompanying crime scene. "Before him, there was Jimmy Bugle, Harry Yu, and Samuel Haynes. All men in their forties or fifties, all caught on their way home from work, killed and dumped within hours." More pictures follow her words on the screen.

"What's that mark on their chest?" JJ asks, pointing a pen towards the picture of Haynes' body. Just above his heart, just like the other three victims, is a small mark. Garcia hurriedly zooms in and brings it into better focus.

The same symbol is cut into all four victims' chests. The cuts aren't deep, and are in fact rather small, but are obviously made with intent and a steady hand. A crude heart with a crown over top it, with what looks like either hands or wings on the sides.

"I think it's the Claddagh symbol," Spencer says, studying it. "It's a Celtic love symbol," he elaborates. "It's a very crude version, but it looks like the same symbol commonly used for rings, particularly in Ireland. The hands are supposed to represent friendship or unity, although that originated in the Roman era with fede rings, not Claddagh – but the crown's for loyalty, and the heart, well, that's for love."

The rest of the team frowns at this new information, flipping through the files in front of them.

"Any idea why this symbol would be left on the victims? What's the significance?" Morgan asks.

JJ shakes her head. "Local police don't have any leads. There haven't been any witnesses, and the bodies were all left on display in the parks. No prints, no video footage, nothing to point towards a suspect. Nothing to even connect the victims. As far as anybody can tell, they didn't know each other, and they don't have anything in common."

"With such public dump sites, the local police are eager to close the case as fast as possible," Hotch says. "They've managed to stop people from panicking, but they won't be able to hold it off forever. The UnSub could strike again in a matter of days, so we need to head out soon. I want everyone out at the jet in forty minutes. We can look over the files further in the air."

The table clears fast, the whole team far too used to the routine to dawdle. Garcia watches as the team heads off to grab their go bags, and Spencer pauses just long enough to give her a reassuring smile. As she smiles back, he wonders if she feels the same unease as he does.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hm. Apparently I forgot to post this when I posted it to AO3. Oops. Sorry for the delay anyway, uni this year is really kicking my ass.**

* * *

Spencer manages to snag the window seat next to JJ on the jet. She gives him a good-natured bump on the shoulder as he shuffles past her legs, but he stays firmly on course and she settles in easily enough beside him. Morgan and Blake crowd in on the other side of their table, with Morgan obnoxiously shoving his feet towards Spencer's legs.

The behaviour is nothing new, and Spencer hardly even notices it anymore. However, as he looks up from his phone, having sent a last, vital email before shutting it off for the flight, the sudden intensity of Morgan's gaze takes him off guard. Shifting uneasily, Spencer hastens to shove his phone in his pocket. Guilt eats at him, but he evades Morgan's eyes and instead opens the file in front of him. Something tells him Morgan will be cornering him later anyway.

"The bruising around the victims' necks," Spencer says, ignoring Morgan's concern for a moment. "It's not consistent with handprints."

"No," JJ's the first to agree. "ME says the bruising points towards a belt or strap of some kind. The edges cut into the skin of the last two victims, so the UnSub must be getting more comfortable using force, but the windpipe was crushed in all four cases."

"It takes a lot of strength and force to strangle someone bare-handed," Blake says. "So the UnSub isn't exceptionally strong."

"Strong enough," Morgan counters.

"All four victims lived only a few blocks from the parks where their bodies were discovered," David adds. "Dump sites could be more of a convenience than a statement. They're very public for the usual dump sites, but the first two were small and under renovation, so there would have been less risk of the UnSub being seen. The last two were bigger, but hardly the pride and joy of their communities."

"But all four bodies were dumped in the middle of the day, in broad daylight," JJ says. "Maybe the parks weren't very popular, but there had to have been someone around. Our UnSub was either very lucky or planned everything out extraordinarily well. I wouldn't be surprised if he had outside help, to distract anyone in the park at the time."

They fall silent, absorbing that for a minute. Blake breaks it after studying the files once more. "If the UnSub is working with a partner, it won't take much for the relationship to go south. From the MO, it looks like only one of them is doing the actual killing, and my guess is that it's the dominant of the two. If the other one acts up in some way or does something the UnSub doesn't like, I doubt it'll end well."

"If that happens, there's no telling what the UnSub will do next. He might decide to cut his losses and go to a different city. We better find him before that happens. We have another five hours before we land, so I suggest you all familiarize yourselves with the case files and work on a rudimentary profile," Hotch directs. "JJ, call the local police department and tell them we're en route and see if we can arrange immediate interviews with the people who discovered the bodies. I'll call Garcia and get a list of potential dump sites in the area, so we can talk to the police captain about extra surveillance in the areas. Four men in two weeks means we can't take any chances."

With that, Hotch settles back into his seat and brings out his phone, mirrored by JJ. Everyone else falls on the files in front of them, and the plane is silent other than Hotch and JJ's murmured conversations.

Until Spencer's phone rings.

Immediately fumbling for it, Spencer shoots an apologetic look at everyone's upturned eyebrow. He blanches at the caller ID and scoots past JJ's legs again to reach the unoccupied end of the plane. Hotch looks like he's about to protest, but Spencer gestures that he will explain later, and that, coupled with the pleading look he sends his boss's way, seems to make Hotch reconsider. Grateful, Spencer slips away and answers quietly.

"Hey, Deborah," he says, turning his back on the team. "I just sent an email – yeah. Okay. Um, listen, I'm actually leaving for work right now, so could you just send me – yes, thank you. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thank you so much. Just tell her – I'll write. Okay. Thanks."

Spencer turns around to blatant staring. Blake, at least, has the decency to look only mildly interested.

"Sorry," he says sheepishly. "Uh, just a – It won't happen again. JJ, did you, uh, did you call the police department?"

To Spencer's relief, they all seem to get the hint and turn away. He knows he'll have to have a word with Hotch when they land, but for now the man doesn't seem too upset by the interruption. Spencer starts to make his way back to his seat as JJ answers, but pauses briefly on his way past David.

"Everything alright, kid?" David asks quietly.

Spencer hesitates. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, all good."

Frowning, David lets him go and Spencer ducks his head on his way back to his seat. Morgan's gaze is heavier than ever on his shoulders, but Spencer just buries himself in the files and slouches in his seat. Morgan still manages to catch his eye as Spencer gives the cabin a nervous lookover.

"Later," Morgan mouths, expression clearly saying there is no room for negotiation. Trapped, Spencer just nods helplessly.

The rest of the plane ride is silent.


	4. Chapter 4

**Two chapters in one go!**

* * *

The team arrives at the police station to little fanfare. They receive the usual stares and whispers, but the captain is welcoming enough and directs them to an area that will become their base of operations.

Not wasting any time, Morgan takes the first chance he gets to corner Spencer.

"Alright, Reid, out with it," he says, closing the door of an empty office behind them. "Something's up with you, I can tell. Are you still having those dreams?"

Irritated, Spencer adopts a defensive stance and turns away. "No – I mean, yes, but that's not the point. I can handle those now, I told you. It's getting better."

Disbelieving, Morgan scoffs. "Yeah, sure. Look, man, you know I'm always here if you want to talk, and I don't mind the late-night calls, you know that. But I just think things might be easier if you told Rossi what's going on. He's got to suspect something; you haven't exactly been looking your best lately. We're worried, Reid, the whole team."

"You haven't said anything, have you?" Spencer asks sharply, shoulders bunching.

"Of course not," Morgan says firmly. "I wouldn't do that. But don't you think Rossi deserves to know? He's spent the last several months thinking you don't remember anything, and I get it, but he should know – "

"Know what?" Spencer interrupts. "That I'm having stupid nightmares about Michaels? That I might be dreaming about my time there, but that it also might just be my imagination? What is he going to think, Morgan? How can it possibly help either of us? I, we, have been trying to build something, okay, some kind of relationship out of this mess, and it has been hard enough as it is without adding this – this crap!"

Knowing when to stop pushing, Morgan pauses. "Okay," he says slowly. "I still don't agree, but that's your choice. But if it isn't the dreams that's bothering you, what is it? Don't tell me nothing, I can tell when you're lying."

But it's too late. Spencer is angry more than anything, and Morgan can see him shutting down in front of him. He isn't surprised when Spencer refuses to answer and instead pushes past him for the door, but he still reaches to catch the younger man's elbow.

"I mean it, Reid," he says seriously. "You can talk to me. Or someone. Anyone."

A conflicted look crosses Spencer's face and he turns towards Morgan, body language a little less defensive. But any chance of him sharing goes out the window at a timid knock on the door, immediately followed by a police officer ducking his head inside the room.

"Hi, sorry to bother you," he says quickly, looking between them nervously. "It's just, I follow the BAU's cases and I just want to meet – Oh. Uh, is this a bad time?"

"No," Spencer says firmly, brushing past Morgan. "Excuse me," he says, ducking past the officer out into the hall. The officer, however, follows him.

"You're Special Agent Reid, right?" he says, eagerly dogging Spencer's steps. "I'm a huge fan. Not that I – I mean – Well, I know all about your career and your team's cases and I just have to say, I really admire you. And the rest of the BAU, of course, but I've met everyone else – well, kind of – and I just wanted to make sure I met you since the captain told us you were here but you weren't with the others and – "

Spencer spins on his heel to face the man, startling him into losing his footing. Sheepishly, the man stops two steps away and scratches his neck.

"Listen, officer…?" Spencer prods, trying very hard to remain polite.

"Paulsen," the man provides.

"Officer Paulsen," Spencer repeats. "I'm flattered that you think so highly of myself and my team. In fact, if you'd like, I can give you my email address and we can discuss things further after my team has finished this case, if you'd be interested in that. Right now, I'm afraid we're very busy," he says pointedly.

Paulsen flushes but straightens his back. "That would be great," he says. "Thank you so much. It's just, after that whole thing last year, I've been really fascinated by you and Agent Rossi. To have the chance to speak to you about it – "

"Wait, what?" Spencer interrupts, suddenly off kilter. "No, that's not what I - "

"Reid, inside," Hotch says, beckoning him from the doorway of the office where the team has set up.

Feeling untethered and a little lost, Spencer nods to his boss and turns back to Paulsen with a guarded expression.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you," the officer says. "We can talk later though, yeah? You'll have to tell me all about getting to know your dad!" Before Spencer can do anything other than gape, Officer Paulsen slips away, leaving Spencer with no choice but to join his team.

"All four victims were from different areas of the city, worked in completely different fields, had no intersecting interests other than Bugle and Haynes' mediocre golfing passions – which, by the way, is a dead end, as they didn't even buy their clubs from the same places," Garcia tells them, twirling a pen between her fingers. "I'm digging, my sweets, but other than some shared bus routes I'm not coming up with much."

"Keep trying," Hotch says. "There has to be something that connects the four men. The UnSub felt strongly enough about them to exert effort into carving love symbols into their chests, so they must have known each other. No one noticed anything suspicious the night the men were taken and killed, which suggests the UnSub knew their routines well enough to predict their movements."

Nodding, Garcia wiggles her fingers and signs off. "Will do, boss man."

Rossi sighs and flicks through his tablet, bringing up a cropped image of the bloody symbol carved into the third victim's chest. "Reid, tell me again about this symbol. It's supposed to be for love, right? So are we looking for a romantic partner, a crime of passion?"

"Possibly," Spencer says slowly. We know there must have been something to inspire the kind of rage this would take. But the UnSub isn't disorganized, which suggests it isn't passion-fuelled, which I would think rules out a personal relationship between victim and UnSub."

"It's a route to explore," Hotch says. "I'll get Garcia to look into past relationships of the victims and see if there's any correlation. JJ, Morgan, I want you to check out the latest crime scene and see why there weren't any witnesses. Blake, talk to the officers, see if they have anything we don't. Reid – "

"Actually, Hotch," Spencer interrupts, suddenly tense. Everyone turns to look at him, but he studiously ignores them. "Can I talk to you about something quickly?"

After a moment's pause, Hotch nods. "JJ, Morgan, head out. Rossi, call Garcia and explore the romantic angle. Reid, with me." He inclines his head towards the door and Spencer dutifully follows him into the hall. Thankfully, it is quiet and empty, and Spencer feels some of the tension leave his shoulders.

Spencer waits until JJ and Morgan pass by, Morgan giving him a raised eyebrow – to which Spencer turns away with a tight jaw – and Hotch looks on with silent question.

"There's an Officer Paulsen who approached me earlier," Spencer says, voice low. "He seems nice but – he says he followed everything last year, with Dave and I. It's just, everything was supposed to be kept quiet and mostly out of the media, and I know there was some stuff that we couldn't silence completely, but I'd prefer if neither Dave or I were left alone with him. He's very… excitable."

Hotch thinks for a minute, eyes dark and searching, but Spencer isn't overly worried. "Alright," Hotch finally says. "I agree, I don't want this Officer Paulsen interfering with the case or distracting my agents. It isn't appropriate for him to accost either you or Rossi about your relationship, and I'll make sure to keep you two away from him. I'll mention it to the chief, as well."

Spencer nods. "Thank you."

"That being said, Reid, is there anything else you want to tell me?"

Spencer stills, carefully averting his eyes from his boss. He hopes his annoyance isn't blatantly clear, but he doesn't hold out much hope. "About?" he asks carefully.

Hotch gives him a pointed look. "The phone call on the plane," he reminds. "You've been distant, on edge lately. We've all noticed. I respect your privacy, but you know we don't want our personal lives to interfere with cases. If there is something, you can tell me. Or Dave, if you prefer."

Spencer's instinctual reaction is to argue, but he knows that won't help his case. "It's nothing," he says evenly instead. "Trust me. If it gets to the point where I can't handle it, I'll mention it. I promise."

Hotch nods. "Good. I was going to get you to go help Blake, but I want to keep you away from the officers until I speak to the chief about Paulsen. Instead, go talk to Rossi and Garcia about the symbol, tell them everything you know and build a theory."

He doesn't give Spencer a chance to argue, though he doesn't try. Hotch leaves to find the chief, and Spencer hovers outside the door to the office, reluctant to go in and face Rossi. He trusts the other man and genuinely likes the way their relationship has been building since last year, but he really doesn't want to have to lie to three people in one afternoon. If he's very lucky, Rossi may take the hint and leave him alone.

Steeling himself, Spencer pushes the door to the office open and slinks inside, noting the way David looks up and runs a searching gaze over him before turning back to the phone. Garcia is on speaker, and the clacking of her keyboard keys is audible.

Relieved, Spencer idles over to the table beside David and tunes in.

"All four of our victims were married men, two of them with children," Garcia's saying. "I don't see anything to suggest the wives knew each other or the other victims, but I can keep looking."

"Do that, Garcia," David says. "Send us the information for Charles Mighten's wife and we'll pay her a visit. There has to be something to this romantic angle. Reid, you want to come talk to her? I can take Hotch."

Grateful for the out anyway, Spencer shakes his head. "I'll come," he says. "I want to see if she knows anything about the Claddagh symbol, and Hotch is busy talking to the chief."

Raising a curious eyebrow, David refrains from asking, though Spencer is sure there is a conversation awaiting Hotch when the man is free.

Both their phones buzz with a message from Garcia.

"Let's head out," David says, grabbing the keys to the car offered to them by the station and gesturing for Spencer to lead the way. "See what Mrs. Mighten has to say."


	5. Chapter 5

**Look at that, I'm not dead. Can't promise the updates will be more regular, but I've never abandoned a story, and I don't plan to start now.**

* * *

"I'm sorry, I don't know what that is," Susan Mighten says, pushing the picture of the Claddagh symbol back towards David. "I don't think I've seen it before. It doesn't look like anything of Charlie's, either."

David takes the picture and tucks it back into the file, taking that as a cue to leave. Susan stands when he does, and he smiles a little apologetically as he implores her to contact him with any concerns or questions. She thanks him, but she's distracted, peering over his shoulder at the other agent a few feet away.

Spencer doesn't look up from his phone until David joins him in the kitchen, but he obediently follows the older agent out the front door and nods at Mrs. Mighten as she sees them out.

As soon as the front door closes, David heaves a sigh and spins on Spencer. "Kid, what's going on with you?" he asks, turning the younger man around with a hand to his arm.

Spencer immediately tenses, shoving his phone in his pocket. "Nothing," he says. "I'm fine. Did you finish up with Mrs. Mighten okay?"

"Yeah, thanks for the help," David says sarcastically. "Spencer, come on, talk to me. You're clearly distracted by something – might as well speak up. It's interfering with the case, and you hate when that happens. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Spencer insists. "Why won't you all just leave me alone? I can handle it; I _am_ handling it. Everything is _fine_!"

David raises and eyebrow and remains silent, watching the fire in Spencer's eyes slowly diffuse. When Spencer's shoulders slump, David turns to the SUV. "We should head back to the station," he says calmly. "Talk to the team about what Mrs. Mighten had to say." He doesn't look back as he heads towards the car, but he notes the pause before he hears footsteps start to follow him.

As they settle into their seats, Spencer is visibly apologetic. But he doesn't say anything, and David doesn't prompt him, so they spend the drive back to the station in silence.

CM

"No leads from Mrs. Mighten," David announces to the team as they gather in the meeting room. "She didn't recognize the symbol, and she couldn't think of anyone who would want to hurt him. She did tell us one thing, however – she and Charles were in the middle of getting a divorce. Apparently, he'd been having a little fun on the side. She couldn't give us a name for the mistress, but supposedly it was a one-time thing."

"Worth looking into," Morgan says. "Maybe this is the love angle we've been missing; whoever he was seeing feels betrayed that her man is married, decides to get a little creative with the revenge. What about the wife? I bet she wasn't happy to find out about the cheating."

David is already shaking his head. "At her sister's at the time of the murder. Obviously, Garcia should look into it, but she showed me her plane ticket and her suitcase was still unpacked."

"What do you know about the other woman?" Hotch asks.

"Not much. Mrs. Mighten thinks her name might have been Jessie, and she might have worked at the same insurance firm as Charles."

"On it," Garcia says immediately from Morgan's phone, still on speaker from earlier. The team gives her a few minutes, listening to the clicking of her keys. "There is one Jessica Burbage at Charles Mighten's place of work, just hired last year and in his department. Oh, he was her supervisor, how naughty. Sending her address to you now."

"Thanks, Garcia. Morgan, you and JJ go talk to her, see if she knows anything. I want the rest of us to look at the other victims, see if they have any history of affairs or marital problems. Garcia, I also want you to check for any relation between Burbage and the other victims, as well as their wives," Hotch directs.

Morgan and JJ head out almost immediately, and Hotch tells the others to disperse for a few minutes before reconvening to take another look at the victims. David keeps a close eye on Spencer, but his son purposely avoids his eyes as he makes his way quickly out of the room.

Sighing, David decides to find his way to nearest coffee source. Hotch and Blake follow him.

"I don't know if Reid told you," Hotch says, ensuring that the three FBI agents are the only ones in the room. "But there's an Officer Paulsen who was a little too interested in Reid, and subsequently you, due to the events of last year. Apparently, he followed everything in the news. I've already spoken to the chief, and he's agreed to keep Paulsen away from the investigation as much as possible, but you should be careful. Reid said he was a little too eager when he spoke to him."

"Reid didn't mention," David says lightly. "But thanks for the heads up."

"Is Reid alright?" Blake asks. "He seems a little… I don't know. On edge?"

David shrugs helplessly. Spencer had been fine before the case, as far as he knows, and hadn't mentioned anything the night he stayed at David's, even when he had gotten somewhat tipsy. If something had been bothering him then, he hadn't let on. Spencer's behaviour now is new, and David doesn't know what triggered it, other than perhaps that phone call on the plane. He had hoped Spencer would come to him if something was really wrong, but maybe that's too optimistic of a thought. They have been getting closer over the past year, but there are still some things David knows is off limits.

Blake hums in concern. "Maybe you should talk to him," she suggests, and David nearly rolls his eyes. "He's stubborn," she concedes. "But he knows you care."

David doesn't answer, just returns to his coffee, but he mulls over Blake's advice. Maybe waiting for Spencer to come to him isn't the answer. Sure, he wants Spencer to trust him enough to approach him, but maybe he should make the first step, show the kid that David's willing to listen, even if Spencer bricks him out at first.

Still, David decides to wait until Blake and Hotch have wandered off. He doesn't want Blake to think she can take all the credit, after all.

He finds Spencer in the hallway, on the phone. He's huddled away from the nearest door, back turned, and he looks upset. David hesitates, but it's too late. Spencer spots him.

"Thank you. Call me if there's any change," he hastily finishes the call, turning to meet David's eye. Spencer's pale and worried, but he keeps his back straight and tries to put on a reassuring smile. It comes out flimsy and exhausted.

"I think it's time you tell me what's going on," David says. "You're upset, Spencer, and I want to know why. I… understand, if you don't want to tell me, but you're clearly not talking to anyone else, either."

As expected, Spencer stiffens, his shoulders bunching into a little defiance. This has been happening more and more lately as Spencer rankles at being coddled, but David knows to wait it out. Spencer may think he's being unduly nosy due to their complicated relationship, but David would have the same concern for any other teammate, and once Spencer realizes that, he'll settle. It's a pattern they've become too used to over the past year, although Spencer hasn't given him this much reason to be concerned since the case in Vegas.

After a tense minute of staring, Spencer sighs. His shoulders slump, and he suddenly looks more exhausted than David's seen him in a while.

"I'm sorry," the younger agent says. "I don't mean to be difficult. I just – I don't know how to… mention it, to you, or to anyone on the team. It's not really something I – " He stops, thinks. "It's my mom," he admits, and David understands. William and Diana Reid are one of the off-limit topics between them. "She's, uh, not really doing well and it's – Well, my dad – uh, William, he's…" Spencer stumbles, struggles with his words, and David doesn't really know how to help. Truth be told, David doesn't like thinking about the Reids too much, finding it too painful, though he's been trying not to hate Diana, if only for Spencer's sake. William Reid, however, is another matter entirely.

There's more Spencer wants to say, more about his mother that is bothering him, David can tell. There's more to it than a few bad days, something serious that is upsetting Spencer. But before Spencer can sort out his thoughts, or before David can try to push, they both hear Morgan and JJ return. They'll be called back with the others soon.

Spencer bites his lip and looks at David with wide, apologetic eyes, but David's already starting to turn away. He'll kick himself for it later, but the mention of the Reids has thrown him a little bit, and he's glad for a reprieve. He'll try to talk to Spencer again later, when he's more prepared.

For now, Spencer follows him back to the others, quiet and distant.

CM

Spencer is careful to sit several seats down from David, mentally berating himself for upsetting the man. He knows David doesn't like thinking about Spencer's parents, but Spencer had slipped anyway. Everything's still muddled between the Reids and Rossis in Spencer's head, even after a year, and he's not sure how to approach it to himself, let alone when talking to David.

He tries to push those thoughts aside as Morgan and JJ settle into their seats and ready to brief them, but he can't help being a little distracted, tense and ready to hear his phone start ringing again.

"Well, Jessica told us the affair was a little more than a one-time thing. She and Charlie were sleeping together for months before he put an end to it. She said he felt guilty, that he couldn't stand lying to his wife anymore. Jessica said they parted on good terms, because she'd already found someone else. She said she was going to end it soon anyway if he didn't," JJ tells them. "From what we could tell, she was telling the truth. She didn't seem bitter over the break up, and seemed genuinely upset about his death."

"She did mention that Charlie had been working hard to make the marriage work," Morgan says. "He and Mrs. Mighten went to marriage counselling and everything. Apparently, he was really cut up about the divorce."

"You know," Blake says thoughtfully. "I remember reading something about the Haynes's marriage as well." She quickly turns to her tablet to flick through some files. "Our victim, Samuel Haynes, was an avid gambler. Reports from friends and family said his wife wasn't a fan – they went to counselling as well."

The team collectively perks up, and Spencer frowns in thought.

"Do you know the name of the marriage counsellor?" Hotch asks, directed both at Blake and Morgan.

"Doesn't say," Blake answers, and Morgan shrugs.

"Deanne Morrison," Spencer cuts in. "There was a business card in the Mightens' kitchen. That must be who they were going to see. Were the other victims going to counselling too?"

Morgan is already texting Garcia. Before long, he is holding up his phone triumphantly.

"The Haynes were also seeing Morrison for counselling," he says. "Same with the Bugles. No word yet on the Yus, but three out of four victims? That's too much to be a coincidence."

Hotch nods in agreement. "Morgan, Rossi, I want you to follow this lead. Head out first thing tomorrow morning. For now, we should all head in. That'll give Garcia time to dig up more information on the Yus, as well as on Morrison herself to see if she fits our profile."

There's a new buzz in the air as the team locks on to a new lead, and the familiar adrenaline is starting to encroach. Spencer, however, is still distracted and nervous, his phone in his pocket feeling like a scalding weight. He wants to talk to David, to apologise, but he knows he's too distracted. David will want to pry, and Spencer doesn't want to deal with that. So he avoids David on the way back to the hotel, and tries not to meet his, or Morgan's, eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Motivation, who? Two updates in two days? Unheard of in my world. No idea what's come over me.**

* * *

Morgan and David are on the road bright and early the next morning. David is still troubled about Spencer, and he knows the agent beside him is also tense, uncharacteristically quiet during the drive. Knowing his team as he does, David's willing to bet money that Morgan is also concerned about a certain lanky teammate.

David doesn't know if he should say anything. Morgan is Spencer's go-to confidant, and David's been out of the parenting game for too long to know if it would be breaking some kind of unspoken rule, betraying Spencer's trust. He doesn't want to go behind his back, but clearly Spencer feels like he can't talk to David, and he needs to talk to someone. Morgan is the obvious choice. If David can just poke and prod a little bit, stir Morgan's curiosity and concern enough for the man to approach Spencer himself, then maybe Spencer will take the lifeline for what it is. David wants Spencer to confide in him, but realistically he just wants to Spencer to talk to _someone_ , even if it means keeping David in the dark.

Things were much easier when the biggest problem with his son was making sure he put his clothes on in the morning.

"Did you see Reid this morning?" David asks, keeping his tone conversational. "Looks like he didn't sleep a wink last night."

Morgan side eyes him a little bit, tightening his grip on the steering wheel ever so slightly. "Yeah," he says eventually. "Kid looks like a corpse." He twitches then, regretting his words, and David inwardly sighs. Everything is so _complicated_ with the team now.

For the most part, they've adjusted remarkably well, helped by the mandatory psych evals that the director insisted on last year. But every now and then, it interferes with the easy way they used to coexist. Spencer's more disgruntled by it than he is, David knows, but to be fair Spencer's life has tilted on its axis a little more severely than David's. Mostly, things have settled back into a familiar rhythm. Or, at least, David thought they had. This recent hiccup with Spencer is making him question that assumption.

"There's something bothering him," David says, taking the plunge. "Has he spoken to you?"

Morgan doesn't look at him, and David feels a pang of guilt. He ignores it.

"I'm not gonna tell you Reid's business," Morgan warns. "I kept his confidence before, and that's not gonna change just because you're – whatever it is you're calling each other now. You want to know what's going on, you talk to him yourself."

The loyalty is admirable, and David finds himself relieved.

"I have spoken to him," he says. "I'm not going behind his back; at least, I'm not trying to. He told me some of what was bothering him, but not all of it. I just want to make sure he's okay, that he's talking to someone about it."

Morgan visibly relaxes. "He told you? Good. I've been telling him to talk to you for weeks, but he's goddamn stubborn."

David's brow wrinkles in confusion. Weeks? He hadn't thought this had been going on for that long. How had Spencer hid it from him that well? They're supposed to be more… open with each other now. They're trying. At least, David thought they were.

"I didn't realize it's been going on that long," David says.

"Yeah, the lack of sleep has been hitting him harder lately. Maybe now he can wake you up in the middle of the night instead of me," Morgan jokes. David is confused.

"The phone calls about his mom are keeping him up?" he asks, looking for some kind of clarification. This is making less sense the more Morgan talks.

"No, the nightmares," Morgan says. "About Michaels."

"The _what_?"

CM

David is still reeling as they pull up to the Morrison residence. Morgan is contrite and quiet beside him, tense and frustrated, but the damage is already done. The younger agent had clammed up as soon as he realized his mistake, but David's already heard enough.

He feels ill. He had thought whatever is going on with Diana was the extent of Spencer's troubles, and that had been bad enough – but this? As much as David dreams of his four-year-old every night, as much as he longs to see more of that child in Spencer and be recognized in turn, he had never wanted this. David still doesn't know the extent of his son's time with Michaels, had resigned himself to never really knowing, and while he's spent decades torturing himself with the uncertainties, the possibilities, he'd rather never know than have Spencer have to experience it again. The fact that Spencer doesn't feel able to talk to him about it – that's worse, somehow.

But as much as David feels his world cracking bit by bit, they're still on the job, sitting outside of the house of their lead suspect. He knows how to compartmentalize, is one of the best, so he manages to pull himself together, pushing thoughts of Spencer – his son – from his mind.

Morgan is still painfully tense, guilt heavy. But they don't have time. He can grovel for forgiveness at Spencer's feet later, after David.

Morgan lets David take the lead to the front door.

Deanne Morrison is a stocky brunette with long pointy nails and a toothy smile. She doesn't seem surprised or fazed to seem them on her door step first thing in the morning, just waves them inside and offers them tea. They decline.

"Well, agents, what can I do for you?" she asks, all manners and smiles. David is instantly on edge.

"Mrs. Morrison, you're aware that four of your patients have turned up dead in the past two weeks alone?" David presses.

Deanne is quick to adopt a morose expression. "Yes, I heard," she says. "Those poor men. And their wives! Such lovely people. To break apart a marriage…" She shakes her head, touching her own wedding ring. "Well, I just can't imagine. I'll do all I can to help, of course. Within the bounds of patient confidentiality, anyway."

"What can you tell us about your patients? Any enemies? Threats?" David asks.

Deanne is quick to shake her head. "No, no, nothing like that. They were all… troubled in their lives, of course, otherwise why would they come to me?" She smiles. "But nothing like that, I'm sure. All four of them were working hard on both themselves and their marriages, to become better."

"What went wrong?" Morgan asks. Deanne looks at him sharply. "I mean, that's a nice story, sure. But we know the Mightens' were in the middle of a divorce. Counselling didn't quite work out, huh?"

Deanne purses her lips. "If they had stuck to the program I laid out for them – " she starts heatedly, before stopping herself. "Cheating is… close to unforgiveable, agents." Her voice has a new intonation now, and her eyes are focussed above their heads. Both David and Morgan turn to see a man hovering in the doorway. Mr. Morrison, presumably.

"Ah, my apologies," Deanne says, suddenly demure. "When you work with your patients as closely as I do, you become… rather invested, I'm afraid. When I heard about the divorce, well, I was disappointed, of course. The end of a marriage is a horrible thing. Oliver, darling, why don't you fetch these agents some drinks? No need to lurk and be rude to our guests."

The man, Oliver Morrison, is quick to acquiesce, heading to the kitchen despite David and Morgan's polite refusal. Oliver is careful to avoid looking at them, and skirts around the couch with a wide berth. Morgan watches him go speculatively.

"Mrs. Morrison, where were you at the time of Charles Mighten's death at approximately 6 pm three days ago? And the time of deaths of your other patients," David asks.

Deanne thinks for a moment. "Well, three nights ago I was home, with Oliver. We love watching our soaps. As for the others, I'm afraid I really couldn't say. I'm not much of a social butterfly anymore, but I do go out and about every now and then. I'd have to check my diary."

"Please do," David says pleasantly. "In the meantime, we'll be in touch. Thank you for your help." He shakes her hand, nods to Morgan, and they move to leave.

Outside, in the car, David locks eyes with Oliver through the kitchen window. The man meets his eyes for a minute, then twitches the curtains shut. _Interesting_ , David thinks. But now that they're on their way back to the station, David can't help but think of Spencer again.

He needs to speak to him. If he's having dreams about Michaels... David hates the thought. He hates the idea of talking to Spencer about it, of sitting down and hearing whatever memories have resurfaced, however fragmented. He wants to know, wants to understand what happened, but god, he doesn't want to hear it from Spencer's mouth.

David's sure Morgan sends Spencer an SOS text before starting the car, but he doesn't care. He won't force Spencer to talk, knows that isn't fair, knows it'll be just as hard and awful for Spencer to tell him as it is for David to hear it. But he won't let Spencer duck out of it, either. Spencer hadn't told him about the dreams, about Diana – David wants to know why. Things were supposed to be getting _better **.**_

Not for the first time, David doubts his abilities as a parent. A four-year-old is easy. This? This is the furthest thing from. He feels like he's already failed.

CM

Morgan's emergency text sends a jolt of ice down Spencer's spine. This isn't supposed to happen. He's supposed to talk to David himself, later, much later, when he knows how to spin his words. When he can handle one thing at a time. He's angry, at first, at Morgan, at David, at himself. But mostly he's just worried and tired. His phone has been ringing on and off all morning, with various news on his mother, and Spencer had been preparing to breach that topic with David later, after an apology. Not this. This wasn't in the agenda.

If Spencer could just be on his own footing, his own turf, for a minute, just to think, he could adjust. But now he just has too many plates spinning, and it feels like they're starting to fall. Couldn't Morgan have just kept his mouth shut for a little longer?

"Hotch," he says, knowing his voice is too terse. He has the man's attention immediately. Spencer can only be grateful that JJ and Blake aren't in the room. "I know we're in the middle of the case, and I know we're close to catching the UnSub, but - I need to go home." Seeing Hotch's raised eyebrow, Spencer is quick to continue. "I know it's not ideal, but the team can wrap things up without me, and let's face it, I haven't been much help anyway. I'll be back at work for the paperwork, I just need to take off a few days early, that's all."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Tell me why, Reid. Why do you need to leave early?"

"It's, uh, a personal matter."

Hotch studies him closely. "Is it urgent?" he asks. "I don't want to be insensitive, but I'd rather not split up the team this deep into the case. If I let you leave, at least two of my other agents will be focussed on your departure rather than the case. You said it yourself, we're close to solving the case. Is the matter so urgent you can't wait until then?"

Spencer bites his lip, fighting to push down his frustration. "It's – It's my mom," he says reluctantly. "I need to see her. Soon. If I could just leave a few days early – "

Hotch sighs, and Spencer knows the battle is lost. "I'm not unreasonable," Hotch says. "I am sorry to hear about your mom, and of course I understand. But I'd rather you wait at least until we have a solid suspect in custody. You can leave before the interrogation, but I'd rather not let you go beforehand, in case this lead ends up to be a dead end." Seeing Spencer's desperate expression, Hotch softens, as much as the stoic man can. "I'm sorry, Spencer. If it really does become urgent, let me know immediately and I'll arrange the jet to take you straight to Vegas myself. You have my word. Just hold on for a few more days, okay?"

Spencer works his jaw, nods sharply, then spins on his heel and walks away. He's fuming, but not exactly surprised. He doesn't even blame Hotch, not really. Besides, he knows if he did leave now, before facing David and Morgan, the two agents would be too worried about him to devote all their attention to the case. Hotch is right, but Spencer doesn't like it.

He likes it even less because he knows Morgan and David will be back at the station too soon. David won't want to wait to talk, Spencer is sure. He has, at most, twenty minutes to figure out what the hell he's going to tell his – tell David. He hates talking about his nightmares, hates sharing the barest of details with Morgan, an invested but ultimately separate third party. Telling David will be far worse, Spencer knows.

He can only hope the lead with the marriage counsellor pans out, because the sooner he can leave, the better.


End file.
